Secret War
by Failcraft Heroes Society
Summary: Jack O'Neill finds himself pulled away into a conflict beyond his control, one of seven Earth champions against their deadliest enemies. His abductor is known by many names, but refers to himself as The Ellimist.
1. Prologue: Not in Colorado anymore, Jack

**Secret War  
Prologue**

**It looks like we're not in Colorado anymore, Jack  
**- -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Great. Just great. Some new, unfamiliar world.

Jack O'Neill closed his eyes, and counted to ten. He hoped that when he opened them again, he would be back in the lab with Sam, listening to her drone on about subatomic catatonic somethings. And whenever he found himself wishing that he would rather be _there_, he knew that where he _was_ had infinite suck potential.

He opened his eyes. Closed them. Opened them yet again. Slapped himself for good measure.

"Well," he said, rubbing his cheek, "so much for the 'Fell asleep during Carter's lecture' theory."

**You wouldn't be speaking from experience, would you?**

Jack spun around at the sound of the voice, searching for its source. It seemed to be everywhere at once, and yet nowhere at all. Worse, it had that smug "amused at the universe" tone of voice that Thor always had, but none of his charm. "Probably," he said, dropping his hand to where his pistol should have been.

That's right, he hadn't been wearing it.

_Well, I'm screwed, then._

**Not as screwed as you would think, Colonel, but still in a dangerous position.**

Jack narrowed his eyes in anger. "Okay, listen, whoever you are. I don't appreciate being threatened. And I really don't appreciate being plucked from my planet and dropped somewhere weird without a way to defend myself. And I'm going to venture a guess and say that it was your doing."

**You would be correct,** said the voice, taking on its amused tone again.

Jack crossed his arms. "Could you at least show yourself? I don't like talking to someone I can't see."

"Very well."

Suddenly, Jack was standing in front of an elderly man, dressed in a tan tunic and trousers and a brown robe. An outfit that looked familiar...

Oh, hell.

"Are you sure I'm not asleep? I've seen plenty of people, but never one that looked like Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The being in Obi-Wan Kenobi's form smiled. "I am just taking a form that would be familiar to you."

Jack waved his hand, unimpressed. "Whatever. You gonna tell me who you are, and what I'm doing here?"

The smile faded. "I have been known by many names, Colonel O'Neill. But you may call me the Ellimist. As for what you're doing here?"

The Ellimist turned to watch the sun set on the alien landscape.

"You have been Chosen."

Jack stood there. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Opened it again. "Okay, I'll bite," he said. "Chosen for what?"

The Ellimist seemed to sigh. "There is a contest that my rival has thrust upon me. Our previous challenge did not satisfy his competitive nature, and has decided to once again send seven champions of his own against seven of my choosing."

Jack was silent for a moment. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"All will be explained in time. Suffice it to say, Crayak has chosen seven champions are – or were – human. This time he has even selected his champions from a multitude of dimensions, one of which you originated from."

Alternate dimensions. Funny, Jack thought that the Mirror was locked away safely.

"So you chose me as one of your own champions?" he asked, cutting to the main point. "First off, why?"

"I have observed you, and I am impressed with both your leadership skills and your ability to adapt quickly to unfamiliar situations. These are both qualities that will aid you and your companions.

"But there is a second reason I have chosen you."

Jack raised an eyebrow; something he picked up from Teal'c. "What's that?"

"Crayak has chosen very powerful humans, forcing me to select from their counterparts. Your foe is known to you as Apophis."

Whatever snarky response Jack was prepared to use died on his lips, as a cold hard chunk settled into his stomach.

The Ellimist continued. "Because of this extra factor, I have had to...improvise. You will have strong allies, ones that will likewise be familiar with their Crayak-chosen counterparts."

Jack was rapidly becoming aware that this was not a "take it or leave it" offer; he was stranded out here, without a weapon, and he was talking to the person who brought him – and a powerful Goa'uld System Lord – here. He would have to play it by the Ellimist's rules if he wanted to get home.

Though those rules could use a bit more definition. Especially where his weapons were concerned.

As if reading his mind, the Ellimist nodded. "Of course, you won't be entirely defenseless." He waved his hand, and Jack found himself in his mission gear, including his P90 rifle on its strap. His pistol was in its holster on his side, and his knives were tucked away in their spots in his boot and belt.

"Well, okay then." Jack said. "I feel better already."


	2. Chapter 1: Relatively Well Met

**_Author's Notes:  
_**Okay, an explanation. The last chapter - the prologue, if you will - was written last week because I had an insane idea. Yeerks are similar - functionally, if not anatomically - to Goa'uld, right? So I thought, what would happen?

And of course, the title is a reference to something else that is very dear to my heart. Something that is similar to what the Ellimist is quite fond of doing himself. Two points for whoever can tell me what.

Finally, though I am firmly of the opinion that there is never a need to explain punctuation marks, I feel that I should add my voice to the growing pool of those who are annoyed by the removal of the open-symbol which is commonly used as thought-speech quotations. Stories I have read have come up with other methods of distinguishing this manner of communications from spoken words, and I have used one that I felt worked the best.

Thank you.

* * *

**Secret War  
Chapter 1**

**Relatively Well Met  
**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jack paused at the top of the hill, and brought his hand up to shield the sunlight from his eyes. The sun – red, from what he could tell – was setting in the direction he needed to go, which made it hard to see. It was low enough on the horizon for the rays to get past the brim of his hat, and it was strong enough to sting his eyes.

There it was, just like the Ellimist had said; far below him, in a deep valley, were the tell-tale artificial lights of a city. And off on a cliff to the right, away from the city, there was an abandoned building.

That was where he needed to go. That was where he would meet his team-mates.

He hadn't been told much about them – the Ellimist was definitely skilled in avoiding a pointed question or five – so he didn't know what to expect. He knew that they were all human, and that they were warriors from alternate dimensions.

Jack smiled wearily. Years ago, he had no idea about alien planets and alternate realities. Now, they were so commonplace that he didn't even blink when the Ellimist started his speech.

He supposed he should be worried about that.

Nah, too much of a hassle. Jack would leave the worrying to Daniel. He was so _good_ at it.

Still, though, this Ellimist had taken him without warning – without _asking_ – and dropped him into a combat situation. No explanation other than "It's a game, a war-game".

Some game. Playing with his life as if it was a toy. Sounded like something a System Lord would do.

Picking out a trail in the hillside towards the abandoned building, Jack set out again. Time to meet his companions, and find a way to win this game so that he could get home.

_- - - - -_

The door opened noisily; much louder than Jack had anticipated, and the metallic creak echoed throughout the empty building. The waning sunlight streaming through the open door was the only source of illumination in the place, and it revealed nothing but a long strip through the blackness.

There was no sign of his supposed teammates. That was not a good sign. He took a cautious step inside, reaching for the rifle that was hanging on its strap.

His hand got about halfway before a sharp metal blade pressed itself against the side of his neck.

"Let's not do that," said a smooth, dangerous female voice. "Guns upset me. And I don't like being upset, do you?"

Jack kept absolutely still. "Ooookay. Not touching the gun." He slowly raised his arms above his head, hands open. "Totally don't want to upset you, whoever you are."

The knife pressed harder. "Walk."

Jack walked further inside the building, keeping his hands up. "This day just gets better and better. Can we at least get some light in here?"

Another voice rang out, this time to his left. "We're working on it." A male voice, young-ish to the sound of it. Come to think about it, the girl holding a knife to his throat sounded fairly young, too. American accents, and from the sound of it, southern California.

"While Xander searches for the light switch," the female voice said, "we'll play a little game. It's called, 'You tell me who you are and who sent you, and I won't give you the last shave of your life.' Sound good?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Jack O'Neill, Colonel, United States Air Force. I got pulled to this planet by some guy who called himself 'the Ellimist', whatever that means. Said I'd find people in this building." His vision was adapting to the lack of light in the place, and he risked a glance towards his captor. "I guess he was right."

"Ellimist, huh?" said the guy over to the left. "That's the guy who dropped _us_ here, too. I think he's on the level, Buff."

"You sure?" The knife disappeared.

"Yeah. Oh, hey, I think I found the controls for the lights!" There was a small _click_, and suddenly the lights came on.

Jack winced, and groaned. "Oh, come on! I'd just adjusted!"

He blinked a few times until he could see again, and took a look around. The girl was to his left – and she really was a girl, couldn't be a day over 20. Behind her, standing at some sort of computer console, was a boy of about the same age, glancing around and looking pleased with himself.

Jack looked around the room; the building turned out to be some sort of abandoned factory/warehouse thing; there was an array of terminals along one wall, with a large screen above them, and a series of conveyor belts and other machinery at various parts on other walls.

He turned his attention back to the girl, who had a rather large knife in her hand, and was glaring at him. "Nice place you got here," he quipped.

She smirked, and put the knife away. "Sorry, Colonel, it's not ours. We're just staying here until we can get home. Whenever _that_'s going to be."

She made another quick scan of the room, and looked back at Jack. "I'm Buffy, this is Xander. I think we need to sit down and talk."

_- - - - -_

_Great_, Marco thought. _Just when you think things couldn't get weirder, the Ellimist has to stick his cosmic wrench in the works_.

Tobias seemed to be thinking the same thing. (Why us?) he asked.

Marco grumbled. (I don't know. Usually he sends all of us.)

They flew on in silence, thinking about it. For what seemed like the millionth time, Marco cursed the Ellimist. He didn't like being a pawn in some sort of cosmic game. Pawn, or knight, or rook. Even bishop.

_Especially_ bishop.

Tobias gave a short screech which shook him out of his reverie. They were approaching fast on the warehouse that the Ellimist said would be there, that would serve as their base of operations. (Someone just went inside. Adult, male, looked like he was armed.)

Marco focused on the door to the warehouse – still far away, but his eyes could see every detail.

After a few minutes, a light came on, and they could see a bit inside. Not enough to see anyone else, though.

(So what do we do?) asked Marco.

Tobias was silent, thinking. Marco knew he wasn't a leader; they usually left it up to Jake to make the decisions.

The Ellimist hadn't brought Jake along. For some reason, he had only chosen the two of them for this "mission". Instead, he had chosen people from alternate realities, or something along those lines.

If you asked Marco, the Ellimist was a few solar systems short of a galaxy.

(I say we circle around a couple times and get the lay of the land,) Tobias replied, after a minute. (That way, if we try to get in contact with these people and it goes sour, we can have a bit of an advantage.)

(Got it.)

They caught an updraft and gained altitude, preparing to make a long circle around the warehouse.

_- - - - -_

Halfway around the warehouse, they found him.

Marco and Tobias passed over a small cliff, behind which a man was crouched, tinkering with what looked like a suit of armor. A highly advanced suit of armor.

Tobias looked over at Marco, who was still tucked neatly in his flank. (Think he's one of ours?)

(Only one way to find out,) came the reply. (Besides, I'm coming up close on my time.)

Tobias turned his focus back on the man beneath them, who seemed to have noticed the hawk and the osprey circling above him. (Let's land. You go behind those rocks, while I talk to him.)

(You want to be the one to talk to him?)

Tobias sighed inwardly. (Do you have a problem with that?)

(Well, not as _such_, but do you remember the last time you talked to a telepathic bird?)

Tobias didn't grace that with a response.

(You know what I meant,) Marco grumbled.

(Yes, and I also remember the last time _you_ made first contact with someone else. How many times _did_ you get shot?)

(You made your point, bird-boy. Go, tell him to take us to his leader.) Marco dropped from formation and headed for a large rock outcropping to demorph behind.

Which left Tobias alone. He noticed that the man's eyes never left him as he flew down and landed on a ledge.

They stared at each other for a while, neither of them moving. The man gave up first, though, and scratched at his stubble. "I don't recall ever seeing Earth birds on a planet that wasn't Earth," he said, after a while. "Except for the caged kind, and you don't look like you'd take well to a cage."

(You'd be right,) Tobias replied.

The man blinked, and dropped his hand to a rather large pistol at his side. "Okay, who are you, and why are you here?"

(My name is Tobias. I was sent here by the Ellimist, and I found you.)

"Jim Raynor, Marshal. Formerly of the Terran Confederacy." The suspicious tone didn't leave his voice, but his hand moved away from the gun. "Ellimist, huh?"

(That's the one.) Tobias cocked his head to the side. (Where are you from, Marshal Raynor?)

"Call me Jim." Raynor turned back and started fiddling with the armor again. "I'm from Earth, originally, but I moved to Mar Sara when I was still young. Stuff happened, and I ended up here."

(Marco and I are from Earth,) Tobias said, looking back at the outcropping that Marco was emerging from. (He and I, well...)

"Are birds."

Marco came over and sat down next to Tobias. "Well, from time to time. Tobias here got hold of a Bette Midler album, and now can't resist feeling the wind beneath his wings."

(I will peck your eyes out.)

"Bring it."

Raynor looked back and forth between the two of them, and sighed. "You know, I'm beginning to hope that this is a big hallucination of Sarah's. A teenager and a talking bird are supposed to help me in a big intergalactic contest?"

"Hey," Marco said, "I'm almost 20. Teenager, indeed."

"You're still a kid."

"Listen to me, Jim," Marco said, slipping one of his rare serious modes, "I've probably seen as much death and destruction as you have. I've had friends die in a war that we barely survived. I've lost more than most 'kids' my age, and I've fought to save what little I had left. So I'd rather you didn't go into the whole 'Poor innocent Marco, too young to be caught up in all this' routine, because I've had it with adults thinking they know everything."

They stared at each other, sizing each other up.

Raynor cracked a smile. "Kid, I like you already."

"Good," Marco replied. "More people should."

(Just keep telling yourself that, man.)

"Bite me, feather-brain."

Raynor stood up, and lifted the suit of armor up on his shoulder. "Hey, Marco. Mind giving me a hand with this? There looks to be a building about half a klick north of here."

Marco took the other side of the armor over his shoulder, and winced. "Good thing we're not too far," he said.

Tobias took to the skies and led the way. (There's at least one more person inside, so we'll be able to sit and compare notes on our counterparts. Knowing the Ellimist, we'll need all the knowledge we can get to take them down.)

Marco grinned. "Well, that leaves me out! Where's the way home?"

Not for the first time, Tobias wished Rachel was there. At least _she_ had a chance of shutting him up.

_- - - - -_

High up on a rocky ledge, a man followed the trio. He didn't know where he was, or how he got there – despite what the glowing Ellimist man had told him – but he knew that he had to follow the soldier, the shape-changer, and the talking bird.

The two men spoke in English. He cursed himself for always falling asleep in English classes, but he understood the talking bird just fine. It spoke inside his head, which was strange, but he had gotten used to strange things long ago.

He was most interested in the shape-changer, though. He was able to watch as the change had taken place, from bird to man, and he stood there in shock. There was no water involved!

Saotome Ranma would find out how that was possible, if that was the last thing he did.


	3. Chapter 2: Choosing a Proper Name

_**Author's Notes:**_  
When writing a large multi-fandom crossover story, you might find yourself writing a fairly long, "Let's all sit in a circle and talk about ourselves!" chapter. Then you might get about four pages in Word with this, and realize that it's boring, unimaginative, and completely not fitting in with the tone of the rest of the story.

Yes. I wrote about four pages in one sitting before deciding to scrap it and start over. Hopefully, this time around, I kept the same pacing and feeling of the first chapter, without turning it into a blatant "THIS IS THE EXPOSITION CHAPTER."

I think I'll finish how that was, post it on my LiveJournal, and actually title it "THIS IS THE EXPOSITION CHAPTER". Just to see what kind of reaction I'll get.

Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

**Secret War  
Chapter 2**

**Choosing a Proper Name  
**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"This," Raynor said, leaning back in his chair, "is nothing like the briefings I got with the Confederacy."

Buffy glared at him. "Is that a problem?"

Raynor smiled. "Problem? Hell no, I hated that kind of formal stuff. Just give me a gun and point the way, that's what I always said."

Jack raised his water bottle in a toast. "I'll drink to that."

(So what's the deal with everyone?) Tobias said, shifting on his perch. (I mean, we're not exactly familiar with each other, right? Why did the Ellimist pull us all together?)

Jack frowned. "He said he chose us because of our counterparts, but also because of our backgrounds. Something about a wargame, which I never had a fondness for."

"The only way to win is not to play," Marco quipped.

Xander's eyes brightened. "How about a nice game of chess?"

"Oh, great," Buffy grumbled. "Now there's two of them."

Off in his corner, Ranma made a comment. "'If this Ellimist chose us because of our counterparts,'" Jack translated, "'perhaps he also chose those who would fit well with each other.'"

Raynor, Marco, and Tobias had made it most of the way to the warehouse before Tobias noticed that they were being tailed. He silently alerted Marco and Raynor, and doubled back to get the drop on the man behind them.

The man turned out to be a surly Japanese teenager, who didn't understand more than a few sentences of English. Tobias, due to the nature of thought-speak, was able to talk to him, though he didn't understand much of the boy's speech, either.

After a few harsh telepathic threats, the boy gave two names; one, which was his own, being Saotome Ranma, while the other was what convinced Tobias that he was on their side. The Ellimist.

Tobias told Ranma to come with them, and they hiked the last of the distance to the warehouse without incident.

When they _arrived_, however, was another story. Fortunately, Marco was able to morph away the knife wound when explanations and introductions were made.

Xander, in his exploration of the warehouse, had found some relatively-normal looking chairs, and had arranged them in a large circle. Ranma had dragged his off to a corner and watched the rest of them, warily, as Tobias relayed the conversation to him. Jack, as it turned out, had a workable proficiency with Japanese, and was able to translate the gist of what the boy said to the group.

"So let's see what we have," Raynor said. "We've got two soldiers, two shapeshifters—"

"Animorphs," Marco corrected, while Ranma made a face.

"—Animorphs," Raynor continued. "A martial-artist, a Slayer, and a carpenter."

(Definitely a mixed assortment of characters,) Tobias agreed. (Remind me to ask about the whole Slayer thing sometime.)

Buffy shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

Xander stood up, and made his way to the large computer terminal on the north wall. "So we've been plucked from our various universes, placed on a planet somewhere by a powerful being, along with our greatest enemies, and told to have at?" He fiddled with the console for a moment, without gaining any results. "You know what that means?"

Marco's eyes shone, while Tobias groaned. "We have ourselves our own Secret War."

- - - - -

"Echo Base."

"Too cliché."

"Tracy Island?"

(No way in hell, Marco.)

"Fortress of Solitude."

"Not enough crystals."

Buffy fought off an impending headache. "What are you _doing_?" she asked.

Xander and Marco glanced at each other. "If this is going to be our base of operations," Marco said, "we need to give it a proper name."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, we can't just call it The Warehouse, can we?"

"How about Alpha Site?" Jack suggested.

Marco considered it. "Nah, too dull."

"Too dull? It's good enough for the SGC, isn't it?"

Xander shrugged. "You've got a point."

Marco shook his head emphatically. "Come _on_, guys! We've got something major here, and we can't just give it a boring name like that. Where's your sense of fun?"

Buffy crossed her arms. "Back home. Which is where we need to focus on getting, remember?"

Ranma shook his head in exasperation, and leapt up to the catwalk above; presumably to brood in privacy.

Marco and Xander fell silent. Buffy closed her eyes again, taking in the tranquility.

" Baxter Building."

"We're two-story, man."

Tranquility didn't last very long.

- - - - -

On the opposite side of the alien metropolis, Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades, sat in contemplation. While her compatriots sniped at each other in thinly-veiled threats and barbs, she cast her mind to the situation set upon the seven of them.

She had been pulled away from her Swarm, with no Brood, not even a single Hydralisk to help her. She had been given her second-in-command, Duran, but even his experience was limited.

Still, he was quite an asset. And it helped to have an ally you were familiar with than five you didn't. Especially since they were apparently going up against Jim.

Jim.

The bastard hounded Kerrigan with every move she made. Even when she's pulled away to some unknown planet, he found a way to follow her.

It was some human sense of justice, she thought. Revenge for killing Fenix, mostly.

He probably did it out of some sense of duty. Perhaps he blamed himself for letting her get taken. Perhaps he thought that he was doing Sarah one last favor.

The misguided fool. Sarah was dead, gone forever, and nothing he did would bring her back. Kerrigan would make sure of that.

"Amazing sight, isn't it?"

Kerrigan spun at the sound of the voice. The cheerful one, Wilkins, had approached her, without her noticing. Either she had been a bit too absorbed in her thoughts, or he was more formidable than she had realized.

"I'm sorry?" she replied.

"The view." Wilkins sat down next to her – the _nerve_! – and gazed out to the cityscape below them. "It always warms my heart to see civilization at its finest. You can just _feel_ the sense of community, of civic pride, drifting from them." He turned to look at her, wearing a genuine smile. "Somewhere down there, there's a marketplace, full of wide-eyed youngsters and happily wandering customers. An economic paradise, that's what it is."

Kerrigan just stared.

"It's astonishing, really, what you see when you know where to look," he said, using the same cheerful tone of voice. "For example, that charming little Drode creature that brought us here, he had just the _tiniest_ amount of smugness on his face when he spoke to us. What that could mean, though, is anyone's guess."

"What do you want?" Kerrigan snapped, tiring of this prattle.

"Same thing you do," he said, not missing a beat. "I want to get back to my city, to my plans. Of course, I'm dead there, but I'd like to go back all the same." His smile didn't fade, but his expression hardened into something..._dangerous_. "And as long as I'm here, I'd like to take care of that smart-mouthed Slayer that is here. The same as you probably want to take care of your counterpart."

Kerrigan didn't answer. She wanted to be rid of Jim's annoying persistence, but did she really want him gone completely?

Yes. Yes, of course she did. He was a hindrance to her rule, and such things needed to be removed.

Not for the first time, she banished that line of thought from her head. She would deal with it when it was appropriate, and not until then.

- - - - -

At Raynor's request, the group pulled themselves back together and discussed their various abilities. He got their support fairly quickly after mentioning that if they were to rely on each other on a battlefield, they should know what they were capable of.

After a few demonstrations of morphing and Slayer-strength and speed, they decided to discuss their counterparts.

"Knowing each other is good for us, knowing our enemy is better. What to expect, what to not expect. How they'll work together. It's never a good idea to take anyone for granted; that will just get you killed."

He leaned forward in his chair. "I'll go first. The Ellimist said that the one chosen for me was Sarah Kerrigan, also known as the Queen of Blades."


End file.
